Fallout 4: AR

10. The Memory Den

When I woke up for the second time, the bright sunlight peeking through the rips in the window curtains announced it was probably just after noon. Sleep had restored my mental equilibrium, but I still had very mixed emotions roiling inside. Take things one step at a time, I guess. And that next step would be to sell our haul and collect the reward. Still sore from the mission, I dragged myself out of bed to find MacCready.

Like a true mercenary, he had taken the opportunity to catch some sleep as well. He was curled up on the couch, one arm tucked under his head, hat knocked to the floor. In repose, the habitual frown and furrowed brows were smoothed, giving him a much more unguarded, youthful appearance, almost pleasantly attractive. I stood there, watching his even, quiet breathing, trying to square this too-young image with the ruthless gunman who had helped eliminate well over a dozen people just a few hours ago.

"Yeah, that's not creepy at all, Boss." One deep blue eye cracked open a hint to peer disapprovingly at me. I squeaked, feeling my face heat up, and coughed apologetically.

"Sorry."

He sat up, yawning. "Feeling better?" was all he asked.

At Kill or Be Killed, KL-E-0 was more than willing to barter caps and ammunition for our haul. That is to say, MacCready received caps. I got to keep the rifle and laser pistol in exchange for my spoils. We both replenished the rounds we had spent obtaining our goods and walked away from the shopfront in good order.

In The Third Rail, we found Hancock and the ever-present Fahrenheit partaking of the bartender's services. We approached the bar, sliding in to sit next to them with a nod of greeting. Charlie addressed us as soon as he noticed us. "I've heard some exterminator cleaned out the rats in the old warehouses. Wouldn't know anything about that, would ya?"

Oh, that's how we're going to play it, huh? "One Pied Piper, at your service." I tried hard to keep my voice light, but some frustration still seeped in. Next to me, MacCready grinned sardonically and I suddenly recalled our conversation the night before. Music, damn it. "The rats, as you say, have been taken care of."

"Ah yes, indeed!" beamed the robot, as much as one could beam, anyway, "Here's the payment for your, errrr... performance." A jingling bag landed on the bar in front of me. I took it, deciding to split it with MacCready later. "So, what'll it be today?"

"Beer and food for two."

We soon made lunch a memory. "So," drawled Hancock next to me from the other side of my bodyguard. "First job already? Nice, sister." He gave me a friendly pat on the back and a flirtatious grin.

"Yeah, Hancock," MacCready said over my shoulder. "Cleaning up the warehouses in town. I don't suppose you were in on that one, since we picked it up from here."

"Here in town?" The mayor took a puff on his ubiquitous inhaler, pondering for a moment before letting out a laugh. "Oh yeah, forgot about that one!" He leaned in to whisper to me, "Politics; brutal as ever, ya dig?" Ignoring my involuntary shudder, he added a bit louder. "Looks like you got enough there to give Irma in the Memory Den a visit. She charges 100 caps a session."

"What will she do? Will she help me get home?" I asked, hopefully, counting the fee into a spare scrap of cloth.

"Truth to tell, Sunshine, the Den's a place where people go to relive their memories." Hancock explained. "We can't figure out how to get you home if we don't know how you got here." On my other side, MacCready had lit a cigarette and took a drag, listening closely.

"All I saw was a bright flash, I told you." I protested, stifling a sneeze at the wafting smoke.

"That's all you remember," the Ghoul emphasized. "But with three of us," and he motioned to include Fahrenheit and MacCready in his count, "going over the memory, we may spot something you missed."